


Just let me hold you

by Ivartheboneme



Series: Modern AUs [2]
Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Implied ableism, Modern AU, Praise Kink, Smut, Some mild bad language, body image issues, sub!Ivar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-10-30 09:49:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10874268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivartheboneme/pseuds/Ivartheboneme
Summary: Based on a dream I had about having to warm a very grumpy Ivar while visiting what looked like a combination of a cabin and a treehouse.This work has been previously posted on my tumblr account.Please note that for all of my works that have sexual content, all relevant characters are at least 18 years old. If they are not yet 18 in canon, I age them up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Älskling - love / darling / dear
> 
> Skitstövlarna - (these) arseholes / douchebags / scumbags
> 
> Min Ivar, min älskling - my Ivar, my love

“I hate it here.” Ivar mutters while you shut the door.

“I know, älskling, but they are my family and they wanted to meet my boyfriend.” You stand behind him and reach a hand out to rub his lower back. He twitches and lets out a hiss, making you back off. You let your hand fall back to your side and watch as Ivar struggles to make his way through the small room.

“I’m not blind you know, I see the way they stare.” He mutters while sinking down on the bed, discarding his crutches.

“I’m sorry. But I promise that we will go home as soon as possible tomorrow.”

“You’re damn right we are. I’m not staying in this shithole with skitstövlarna a second longer than what is absolutely necessary.”

“Ivar, please don’t call it a shi…”

“What? I can’t be honest now.” He snaps “This little summerhouse is a shithole, inhabited by shit people and you know it.” Ivar’s reddened and chafed fingers stumble with the zipper on his hoodie. Turning away from him so that he won’t see your face, you begin to change into pj’s. Once you’re done you see that Ivar has already curled up under the covers, facing the wall. You lie down next to him and take a deep breath, deciding to make a new attempt at reaching out. He tenses up at the feeling of you nuzzling against his shoulder through the black t-shirt.

“Ivar…” You begin but he cuts you off with a harsh voice.

“Let’s just go to sleep.” You shrink back from him and curl up in defeat.

 

Ivar twists and turns, giving up angry noises like some anxious animal. You’re almost afraid to ask what’s wrong but you can’t just listen to it either.

“You can’t sleep?” Ivar’s eyes are hard as stone when he finally faces you.

“How very observant of you.” His voice drips with venom “Of course I can’t sleep; I’m freezing.” Glancing over him, you notice that the cover is only pulled up to his waist. You’re on the verge of telling him that he would be warmer if he used the cover properly but he cuts you of again, having noticed where you’re looking.

“This cover smells like it’s about to rot. Have they never heard of washing machines?” _I can’t listen to this all night_. You jump out of bed and scramble to find your shoes. Ivar’s glare burns at the back of your head as you put the sneakers on with trembling hands.

“I will go find some blankets.” You inform him while pushing the door open.

“Good. The only helpful thing you’ve done all day.” He mutters. You freeze, halfway out, and look at him over your shoulder. He stares at the ceiling, pretending that he can’t see you. You step outside, slam the door shut and begin to walk toward the main cabin.

 

“Finally.” Ivar grunts when you come back with a pile of blankets stuffed under your arm. He tears them from you and starts to unfold them. You slide back under your cover but make sure to keep a safe distance from your giant child of a boyfriend while he adjusts the blankets. A long finger pokes at your back and you turn to look at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

“Come here.” He orders while lifting the blankets. You narrow your eyes at him and he sighs.

“Warming me is the least you can do after today, (y/n).” A pang of guilt goes through you. While getting the blankets you decided to just throw them at him and then ignore him for the rest of the night; you should’ve known that he would make you break that promise. You lie down next to him, chest pressed against his shoulder, and wrap your arms around him. He is cold. It takes a few minutes, but Ivar finally starts to relax as his body warms up at your touch. It has been a long day for the both of you and you realize just how tense you’ve been. You allow yourself to relax and, without thinking, you rub your cheek against the top of his head and then place a kiss there. Once you realize what you’ve done you automatically pull back, expecting Ivar to snarl something about how he’s not in the mood for letting you be affectionate with his twisted body. He does react, but in a much more soft and heartbreaking way.

“Why did you stop; did you remember you’re touching a cripple?” He sighs.

“Ivar, no, I…” He turns suddenly and grabs your hips, the shock of it making you stop mid-sentence and let go of him but you catch a glimpse of wet eyes before he begins to manhandle you into the position that he wants. He wraps his arms around you and pulls your back tight against his chest.

“Just let me hold you. Please.”  He says weakly and it’s impossible to deny him. You let him spoon you even though his grip is almost painfully hard and you try to stay still so that he will be able to sleep. It doesn’t work; instead, his breathing grows more and more ragged despite his attempts to settle down. Your heart beats erratically, not sure what to do or say to make it better. Eventually, Ivar breaks and you can feel something wet drip on the top of your head. How have you not learned this yet? As always, Ivar has hidden his sadness behind a thick layer of anger.

“I’m not deaf either. I heard everything they said.” He sobs; the sound is heartbreaking and you can’t stay still any longer. Ivar gives up a sound like a wounded animal when you force his arms away but you hurry to shut him up with a kiss and a few words.

“Sssh, get on your back.” You whisper as you taste the salt on him. Ivar hesitates and you press on his chest to make him do as he’s told. Once he has settled down you scoot further down in bed and carefully wrap your legs around his. He shivers at the contact and cranes his neck so that he can see your face properly. You tug at his hair to make him come closer so that you can whisper in his ear.

“Min Ivar, min älskling.” Hearing this makes him whimper quietly. You lift his left hand to your face and kiss the angry red marks. He had taken the crutches instead of the wheelchair today, thinking it would make him look more capable in front of your family; but he isn’t used to walking with them and all it has resulted in is chafed skin.

“We don’t have to go here again. Well, I probably have to but you can stay at home.” You say between kisses. His hands wander to your cheeks and start to caress them almost desperately. You redirect your attention to his stomach and chest, hand snaking under the t-shirt. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that you love his legs, the only thing that works is convincing him that everything else about him is so appealing that it makes up for what’s beneath his waist. Tracing his muscles you moan softly and you can hear him take a deep breath. As you continue tending to him like this, Ivar finally begins to truly relax. He settles down and drifts off to sleep with his chin resting against the top of your head and your hands gently reassuring him that he is enough.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much ableism in this one. Reader's family are douchebags.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God morgon, gumman - Good morning, gammer (gammer is the literal translation but where I live gumman is often used affectionately towards children, it is used in pretty much the same way as sweetheart)
> 
> Lyssna - Listen

“Are you sure?” You ask. Ivar gestures at the door with his free hand, the other clutching a bottle of water.

“Yeah, go ahead. You’d think I would have learned to swallow my meds by now but I still haven’t so.” He puts the first pill in his mouth, screwing his face up in a grimace as he swallows it. You fight not to giggle at the sight of it.

“Go on. I’ll join you once I’ve managed to get the rest down.” He says when he opens his eyes to find you still standing there.

“Okay then.” You place a quick kiss on his forehead before heading for the door. You walk toward the main cabin, grateful that Ivar had told you to go ahead and start eating breakfast. This way you can talk to your family before Ivar comes to the table and plead with them to behave better today. It’s warm outside, almost 20℃, and the front door is open. Even over the cluttering of plates and glasses, there’s no mistaking your uncle’s voice.

“Did you see him yesterday? He almost fell on the porch.”

“How is that boy ever going to get a job?” Your grandmother sighs.

“I don’t think he plans on getting a job; he means for our y/n to support him.” Your father scoffs in response. It’s the last drop.  You step inside the combined kitchen and dining room then slam the door shut.

“Don’t you people ever have anything nice to say?” The words come out hoarse as you fight to hold back angry tears.

“God morgon, gumman.” Your father says with a wary smile, as if he could just brush over what they all just said by using the childhood nickname.

“Have you liked any of my boyfriends?” Your arms cross protectively “Johan was too shy, Nils had a tattoo, Victor-”

“We liked Linus.” Your mother interrupts and your grandmother nods in agreement.

“Yes, he was such an ambitious young man.”

“He was a cheating bastard.” You snap. Your father at least has the decency to avert his eyes in embarrassment at that but your mother, as usual, isn’t deterred.

“People make mistakes.” She says dismissively “I ran into his mother at the store earlier this week; she says he’s almost done with business school.” You close your eyes, knowing exactly where she’s going with this: _Why don’t you give Linus a call? I’m sure he’d take you back._

“So you think I should forgive Linus, even though he _chose_ to be an asshole, and dump Ivar for something he was born with?” Your nails dig deep into the palms of your hands, leaving small marks. She rolls her eyes and heaves a sigh.

“I’m just trying to-”

“I know exactly what you’re doing.” You hiss “Stop it. I love him.” It’s said in the heat of the moment but you know it’s true. Your mother motions to speak again but before she can get another spiteful word out you turn on your heel and open the door, pausing as you nearly crash into Ivar.

“y/n?” He says in a low voice where he stands leaning against the rail.

“We’re leaving.” You snarl as soon as you’ve recovered from the shock and stomp right past him to get the bags.

 

It’s been nearly two hours since you tossed the bags in the trunk of your car and left your parents’ summerhouse; just another 25 minutes and you’ll be home. Ivar’s spent the entire ride blasting music and staring straight ahead while you’ve been wondering how much of the conversation he overheard. Lowering the volume and clearing your throat, you finally break the silence.

“Do you want to go to my apartment?” Ivar shakes his head.

“I want to go home.” He murmurs.

“Yeah, of course.”

 

You park outside the apartment building and reach for Ivar’s hand, gently squeezing it.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t think they’d be so, well…” Your voice fades away. The have always been critical but yesterday they took things to a whole new level. Ivar doesn’t say anything, just nods briefly at your apology. After minutes of silence you let go of his hand, expecting him to hurry out of the car. To your surprise, Ivar doesn’t move.

“I want you to stay.” He murmurs. His words make you smile.

“Sure.” You do have some clothes and a toothbrush in your bag so that won’t be a problem. “I guess I could spend the night.” You say while reaching to open the door only to be interrupted by Ivar snarling.

“No.” He sounds so angry that you jump a little in surprise. You’ve become somewhat of an expert at dealing with his mood swings but, like everyone else, you have bad days too. Like this one.

“Changed your mind already?” Your voice drips with bitterness. Ivar tries to say something but to no avail. “I’ve already said I’m sorry and in case you didn’t notice it this morning, I stood up for you. What else do you want me to do?”

“Lyssna! I meant, so-something more permanent.”

“Oh, like what? Stay until the next time you get upset about something?!” You scream. Ivar slams his fist against the passenger door but this time you’re too worked up to be scared by it.

“Move in with me!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NEW TAGS: Angst, fluff, smut, teeny tiny bit of blood, sub!Ivar, a little bit of dirty talk in Swedish

You freeze, not sure if you heard right.

“What?” It comes out more like a squeal than an actual word. Ivar turns to stare at you. He opens his mouth only to close it again without having said anything. He squeezes his eyes shut, lips pressed into a thin line. You can practically see the gears in his head turn as he tries to decide what to do next. In the end, he goes for his usual way of dealing with things.

“Forget it, it’s stupid.” He snaps before more or less lunging at the door. By the time you’re finally able to pull yourself together he’s reached the entrance. You jump out of the car, grab your bag from the trunk and take of running after him. He glares at you when you enter the elevator.

“There’s no point in trying to keep me out; you‘ve already given me a key.” You say, staring right back at him. He blushes at the reminder and tries to cover his embarrassment by huffing.

 

Stepping out of the elevator, you make sure to reach the door before him to open it. Ivar brushes past you into the hall and leans against the wall while kicking his shoes off.

“We’ll have to get another wardrobe, there’s barely any place for me to put my clothes in.” Ivar responds by muttering something under his breath and he readjusts his grip on the crutches before making his way to the kitchen. You trail behind him, observing as he starts to make breakfast.

“Unless you’d prefer throwing out some of your clothes.” His shoulders tense at that. You know that was a cheap shot; almost everything he does is an effort to make himself seem more capable and desirable, including his clothes. It does make him talk though.

“I don’t want you inviting your family without warning.” He says softly, pretending to dig through the refrigerator even though you both know he’s already taken everything out.

“I won’t.” You answer quickly. Ivar lets out the breath he’s been holding in and finally pulls away from the refrigerator. He gestures at the sandwiches and the bowls of yoghurt.

“Ät.” Sitting down together, you nudge at his feet under the table.

“So, I move in?“ Ivar nods.

“We get another wardrobe?” He nods again and you push yourself to standing, leaning over the table to press a kiss to the top of his head. Ivar audibly swallows but as you sink back down on the chair there’s definitely a smile on his lips. The belated breakfast continues in silence until you’ve both finished. Ivar rubs his eyes, his tiredness suddenly very apparent.

“I need to rest.” He murmurs.

“Can I join you?”

“Mm.” While you put the dishes away Ivar disappears into the bathroom. Once done you plug in the phone charger, lingering to make sure that it works but ignoring the missed calls from your father, then walk to the bedroom. The bedspread ends up on the floor when you yank at it and you strip down to your panties and t-shirt before crawling under the covers. Ivar returns from the bathroom, having changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt.He sits down at the edge, sets an alarm for 12 when he has to take the next round of meds, then lies down and scoots closer. Feeling you nudge at him, he lifts his arm so you can curl up against his side. His breathing is laboured, a sure sign that he’s in pain. It’s usually not this bad but the last 24 hours have been exhausting and you soothe him as best you can so that he’ll be able to sleep until he can take the next dose.

 

You wake up before him and, lifting your head to glance at the watch, see that there’s still another few minutes before the alarm goes off. You’ve both shifted in your sleep so that you’re now on your sides facing each other. Slipping out of bed, you sneak back to the kitchen to get some water. Upon returning, you set the glass down on the nightstand and begin to pet his hair, trying to wake him more gently than the alarm would. Ivar stirs, opening his eyes.

“What time is it?” He murmurs, craning his neck into your touch.

“11:59. I got you a glass of water.” Ivar smiles at that and he reaches a hand out to turn the alarm off. He digs around in his bag on the floor until finding the pills then leans back against the headboard, accepting the glass from your hand.

“I heard you this morning.” Ivar says after having swallowed down his meds.

“Yeah, I figured you did. How much?”

“Somewhere around your grandmother praising Linus. So I definitely heard you say that you love me.” You instinctively duck your head down, avoiding his gaze.

“You didn’t mean it?” He asks suddenly, worry clear in his voice.

“Of course I meant it.” You answer, scooting closer so that you can lean against him. As the minutes pass by, Ivar begins to visibly relax as the meds kick in.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I really needed to rest.” He answers before planting a kiss on your forehead. Ivar shifts a little and clears his throat.

“So, what exactly do you love about me?” Smirking at him, you tap at his arm to make him release you.

“Well-” You straddle his lap, place your hands on the broad shoulders and squeeze; the feeling of his muscles under your fingers sending a spike of heat to your core. “I like these.” Next, your hands disappear into his thick hair.

“This too.” Ivar hums as your nails scrape over his scalp and you bite down on your lip to muffle a groan. Leaning in and melding your lips together, Ivar’s arms wrap around your waist. You can feel his arousal grow and press against your inner thigh. Retreating a little, you murmur against the corner of his mouth.

“You’re so fucking clever.” That pulls a groan from him and one of his hands slide up to the back of your neck to close the distance again. You allow him one quick kiss before pulling back again and continuing your praise.

“The prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” He winks at you then, a grin spreading over his face as he hears you giggle.

“And-” You take a deep breath “I like how much you’ve worked with yourself since we met.” Sure, he is still prone to mood swings and he is sometimes jealous. But it is nothing compared to a year ago, when not a day would go by without him narrowing his eyes at your friends and coworkers. Ivar’s face softens at that.

“I want to be better.” He says.

“I know. And my baby is doing so well.” You say sweetly, his face cupped in your hands as your thumbs brush over the smooth skin of his cheeks.

“In fact, I think you’ve earned a reward. Hips up.” Ivar presses his knuckles into the mattress, lifting his ass from the bed and you help him tug the sweatpants and boxers down so that you can pull them off. The rest of the clothes, both yours and his, soon end up in a pile on the floor.

“Oh yeah, I like this too.” You say, tracing the lines on his hips. Ivar latches on to your waist, desperate to bring you closer. All he gets is a disapproving tsk tsk.

“Nuh-uh. Arms at your sides, sötnos.” Ivar whines at the command but he obeys. You moan at the display of obedience; nothing can compare to the sight of him surrendering.

“Duktig pojke.” You line his cock up with your opening, pausing to give another quick peck at his nose before sinking down. Ivar’s eyes fall shut and he bites down on his lip. Rolling your hips, you savour every whimper coming from him. A flush of red starts to creep up Ivar’s neck and cheeks, prompting you to ask him something.

“Sötnos?”

“Ye-” Ivar interrupts himself by gasping loudly “Yes?”

“You’re not going to cum before me, are you?” He responds by rapidly shaking his head.

“I won’t.” He promises in a shaky voice, fingers wrapping even tighter around the bed linen as he struggles not to climax. You tsk at him again, then grab onto one of his wrists and motion for him to bring his hand between your legs instead. Ivar begins to carefully circle your clit, knowing better than to try and rush your orgasm; that would not end well for him. Just the sight of him working so hard to please you is nearly enough to send you over the edge; his face is scrunched up in concentration, the other hand still grasping the sheet.

“Duktig pojke.” You groan. Ivar looks up at you from under long lashes, whimpering at the praise and the sound sends another wave of heat through your body. The circles are coming quicker now and your nails dig deep into his shoulders, bracing yourself as your body begins to stiffen. You revel in the warmth flooding your body, throwing your head back and moaning while squeezing down on Ivar’s cock. Ivar knows it’s his turn now and so he holds on to your waist, thrusting into you. As you come down from the high, you begin to move again; bouncing on top of him until he groans and shudders. He bites his bottom lip while spilling his load inside you. Ivar closes his eyes, mouth slightly open as he settles down. You stay on top of him, briefly nuzzling against his nose before lapping up the blood from his lip. He chuckles and squirms a little. He sits up straighter and places a hand at your neck. With your foreheads pressed together, Ivar’s breath fans against your face as he speaks.

“I love you. I love you and we’re going to live together.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ät - Eat  
> Sötnos - Sweetheart, poppet  
> Duktig pojke - Good boy


End file.
